𝘰𝘰𝘰. ┋【 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐘 】- 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥.
💥. *. ⋆
ੈ✩‧ ೃ⁀➷ - - - 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇... one hook up can lead to so much more.
❝𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵? 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘭𝘦𝘢�...
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CHAPTER FOUR — ❝ what the hell is that ? ❞
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"WHAT THE HELL is she doing?"
"Maisie, language. Jesus." Jonathan scolded his sister with a disturbed face, glancing at her before returning his gaze forward.
"I'm older than you, buzzkill. I can say what I want." The girl muttered from his side, but quickly turned her attention back to what they were watching, as well.
The girl watched her mother sit in Will's bedroom—which was filled with lamps, and mumble to herself like a crazy woman.
"It's me. Just talk to me. Talk to me," she muttered, rocking back and forth on Will's bed.
"Mom?"
"Jonathan!" Joyce jumped as she turned to her children. "Maisie! Come here, come here," she waved them further into Will's room.
"Mom, what is this?" Jonathan motioned to the lamps.
"Come here. Come here," their mother patted the bed as she sniffled in despair.
Jonathan went to sit next to Joyce, while Maisie stayed standing next to the bed, looking around her brother's room in discomfort. Will always hated messes in his room, claiming that little space in there was suffocating to him. He always said he wanted to "feel the space", and that if there was too much stuff in there, he'd feel stressed out.
"It's Will. It's Will, he's, he's trying to talk to me."
Her mother's words brought Maisie back to reality from her head. She looked at her mother with uncertaincy as she listened to Joyce's breath shake. She looked like she hadn't slept all night and Maisie was getting worried.
"He's trying to talk to you?" Jonathan asked.
"Yes, through.. through the lights." Joyce breathed and pointed to all the lamps in the room.
